Chapter Text
"Again!"
Understanding his father's command, Michelangelo whipped the length of his nunchaku around again. Another bottle gone. Locking his legs around the rope tied to support beams on the ceiling, he took a deep breath. The iron frame creaked above him. Sturdy enough, he reasoned. The exercise was simple. Stay in the air by swinging from rope to rope, and shatter the glass bottles tied to each one. Initially seeming like a difficult task given he wasn't allowed to use his powers, it became easier once he realized each leap was like making a rotation on his skateboard. Sydney would be so proud of him, if she knew who he was. Almost like clockwork, he giggled before giving the last one a sweeping kick, then dusting off a few granules that were left on his foot. Dropping onto the center of the warehouse floor, Splinter smiled back at his son.
"Your acrobatic prowess has improved already. While you are versed with stealth, you must work on practicing your flame strike's precision from within the shadows."
Giving a short but sweet bow, Mikey began to tiptoe around the small scatterings of rubble, now holding a broom in his hands to sweep them away into the corner dustbin. Once the area was clear, he leaned down practically microseconds later to hug his father, lifting him up for a moment without realizing it.
"Aww, thanks! Raph said I need more protein last time we video called each other so we can get a medium with grilled chicken- you think Lou Mike Tony's does delivery across the water? We haven't checked since we got here, I can't believe I only realized that now!"
Feeling his son's shifting emotions, he knew what to do, politely giving him a tap on the shoulder as a signal to let go so the hug didn't hurt anything in his back.
"I'll check, don't worry. But no garlic butter... I am applying that rule to myself as well."
Unlike his brothers, Michael wasn't picky with toppings. Come anchovies or pineapple, he just simply loved pizza. Hobbling over to where they had set up their radio, Wi-Fi router, and phones atop a few crates (they had not finished moving in), Splinter decided to turn on the radio while checking his phone, perhaps there would be some music on-
"All units, all units! We're getting reports the ferry has been taken hostage. Rendezvous to the harbor and await further instruction!"
Initially shocked, Yoshi stumbled backwards a few steps before turning to his orange-clad child with an approving nod, beginning to sift around the crate's insides before a hairless hand made purchase with what he needed. Tossing a shiny copper ring with a key attached, he quickly gave instructions while properly tuning the signal.
"I will get you that meal, my son. But you must put your training to good use, first. Check underneath the platform marked 87 once you get to the docks. Remember the thing Donatello said you'd get when the time is right? That time is now, go, go!"
Gasping in disbelief upon receiving the gift, he could tell the situation was urgent and only could muster a stiff salute to his father before kicking open the warehouse doors. When he put out an arm to a nearby rooftop, a gleaming orange chain shot from his wrist and made contact with the upper wall, shooting him into the air. The view from above nearly took the shock out of his shell. He really should put a trademark on this method of transport. Mikey-swinging had a nice ring to it.
"COWABUNGA!"
Landing on the platform marked 87 upon arrival, his arms dangled below until he grabbed onto rope, the very same rope that they had in the warehouse. Michelangelo tugged on it with considerable effort, and it slid out onto the water before him. There, floated a bright orange jet ski with pink decals that read: "RONIN" in the craziest cursive font possible. Perhaps that was a decal or the actual brand name but at this moment he could care less. It was his thirteen-year old's pipe dream of a Lou Jitsu movie opening put into physical form. Hell, he still dreamed about arriving like his dad to save the day. Jumping onto the leather seat, the key turn illicit-ed a hum full of life. Revving the engine, it was only a matter of time until he reached the ferry, which according to the radio relay on his phone, had left the harbor on a course to an aquarium on Coney Island. He wondered what any Hidden City's criminals would want to do with that?
A guttural growl came from within the double doors that normally held a line of boardwalk tourists. Once Michael swerved into the incline of sand. In awe at what he was seeing, it became clear whoever was behind this was strong enough not only to take the ferry hostage, but also leave it beached on it's side. Naturally, his instinct was to pry open the top's emergency hatch, crawling inside to help the captain up.
"Sir or ma'am, you okay?"
"Ah-! Oh, you're one of the turtles! Whoever that was, he injured some of the passengers, some are concussed but we need help so this doesn't get worse."
"I'm going in. Tell anyone else that arrives, they need to form a- what's the word- a perimeter, to keep it contained."
Handing his phone to the clearly still recoiling captain so they could call emergency medics, Mikey launched from the hull through an upper window, tucking arms and legs into his shell so he doesn't break a limb. Raph always reminded him to do that when breaking through glass, along with drinking water regularly. Sticking to the shadows after rolling silently onto the tiled floor behind a few pillars, the source of audible disdain was nearer. Tip-toeing just like before noon on this same day, he practiced darting between where an outside observer's blind spots would be. Finally arriving at a large window with blue lights from within the water itself shining onto his face, Michelangelo would normally in awe if he wasn't on a mission. Holding the nunchuck handles with both palms, he called out before spinning it.
"Alright, fish sticks! I wanna see both hands up! Side to side, then take it back!"
A fin poked out from the stranger's back, their white chrome armor having a minor gleam when a large hand pressed against the glass surface, which attracted many of the sharks. Slowly turning around with slow, heavy footsteps, bracers on the back, forearms, and thighs. Looked like some kind of Yo-Kai diver, and he wasn't going around for photography like April. Adjusting the narrow space between two glossed goggles, the stranger bellowed, baring rows of impossibly sharp teeth.
"You may not be as squishy as this planet's other life forms, but know your place! I am Armaggon, and you shall treat me as your king!"
"That's a bit much, even for me. At least buy me dinner first-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Army Gone- at least that's what Mikey could hear from across the room, drove his left arm through the glass, causing a rush of water along the floor. Several salmon sharks dove up attemping to bite him, and shot two chains up to hang securely from a sculpture of an octopus. Spinning around on it's many arms, he then could see that Freshwater over there had blocked all the lower exits, causing the water level to grow, submerging several glass boxes with other kinds of marine life. Lashing out with one chain, he let the other one keep him mid-air.
"For a king, you don't treat your subjects very well!"
Attempting to ignite the chain, Armaggon simply thrashed it below with a jet of water.
"You have no place to speak on my authority! I do not know what your weapon is, but I will have great pleasure adding it to my new collection!"
Michael took that just a tad personally. Ever since the Krang attacked, their powers were internal rather than weapon based. So having them amplified their familial energy, but did not create it in the first place. Keeping himself in check, he kicked off the sculpture and onto a bright canoe that must have been some kind of merchandise a civilian got from the gift store, catching a glance on his way here but obviously not having the time to check it out.
"Well then, your Majesty. Let's settle this mano a mano!"
Armaggon happily obliged, gliding up from the water's surface onto the other end, almost tipping Michelangelo over, torso plate first. No, he thought to himself. This big bully wasn't going to ruin a beloved city institution! When the shark chomped forwards, he faked out a perpendicularly opposite motion, pretending to trip before locking the middle of his chains into the gaps between rows. Pulling them taut, the canoe began to spin from left to right, mimicking their struggle and cascading water out the windows from the force alone. At one point the canoe capsized and he held his breath before flipping onto Aramaggon's back. In an instant they were left with merely puddles and many of the wildlife presumably were relocated near the coast.
Realizing his defeat, a humbled apex predator began to plead to the small box turtle who had him in a clever hold, muffled by the knot made in his teeth. Mikey then extended the length and slammed him into the now empty exhibit's back wall.
"And that's why you should floss, kids! ...Omigosh, I better make sure they called animal control, too!"
Hurrying out from the main exit onto the beach once more, a ship more in the vein of flying loomed on a clear skyline, overlooking the fight's aftermath, growing closer by the second. It was preparing to land.